


nothing more

by disorderedorder



Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Heavy Angst, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-TFA, Vaginal Sex, academy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 13:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/pseuds/disorderedorder
Summary: "I wish we had more time. I love you."Steve Trevor, Wonder Woman (2017)





	nothing more

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagpieMinx (CardinalFox)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardinalFox/gifts).



> for my peach, MagpieMinx

 

You had first met him on your induction day, the very first day at the Royal First Order Academy on Arkanis. You came from a backwater planet, even further than the most remote planet of the Outer Rim, and it was a miracle that the recruiters even came to your planet, looking for children to join the academy. And even then, you were surprised you made it through your basic training and boot camp period. At the time, you were training with some of the best and brightest from all over the galaxy, children from Coruscant and Yavin IV and Brentaal IV that had been training since birth to fight for a spot in the ranks of the Order. You, by all means, were just another annoyance to be rid of for them.

There were multiple campuses, but the one on Arkanis was the most prestigious, the richest, and the one guaranteed to train its students for the highest ranks in all the Order. Generals and squadron leaders and engineers were made there. In basic training, you heard stories from the others, about the endless hours of homework and the flight simulators and the highest rated professors and instructors. Many of your peers in basic training already knew how to fly half the ships the Order used, and even more possessed skills further than that, from mechanics to translation to encryption. Many talked freely of the positions they hoped to achieve in the Order, most of them hoping for the rank of general or even higher.

Your dreams, however, were much more humble. You imagined yourself a lieutenant at most, perhaps serving aboard the ship that had not been built yet, rumored to be called the Finalizer. To even serve as a captain would be a great achievement in your eyes, even though most of your peers turned their noses up at such a low rank. The only thing you hoped not to do was to be stuck behind a desk, working planetside for nine hours a day. Despite your wish for a comparatively low rank, you also had no desire to be simply a secretary or caf runner.

The six years in the academy, followed by an additional two years of internship on a ship would be enough to guarantee you a place amongst the Order’s best, as long as you kept to your studies and stayed vigilant for the common sabotage amongst the students. You’d heard from many of them that there was no room for friends in the Order, and you learned faster than you meant to that friends were willing to turn on friends and family on family to gain favor from professors, instructors, and the heads of the academy, Brendol Hux and Grand Admiral Rae Sloane. The two of them seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once, and there seemed to be nothing that escaped their attention.

Your first year at the academy began when you were only thirteen, but your basic training had lasted the previous year and a half prior. From the moment you stepped aboard the craft that took you first to Jakku, and then to Arkanis, you left your old life behind forever. Only four from your entire planet were chosen to go, and not only were all of you on a scholarship, but two never made it through basic, and one dropped out their first year in the academy, which provoked a public shaming as they packed their things and left, never to return.

Armitage Hux was the son of Brendol, and while he was two years older than you were, he was in your graduating class, much to the chagrin of his own father. You didn’t know much about him initially, other than his parentage and his grades, which were more than exceptional. He scored the highest on every exam, every assessment, even on the flight simulators. Some people said the system was rigged, but you doubted that, due to the shouting you heard almost every night, directed at Armitage from his father. You didn’t always catch what the shouting was for, but the few times you did, it seemed as though it was for the littlest things.

It never failed to surprise you how much your graduating class dwindled every year. Even after the first quarter of your beginning year, you noticed at least one hundred empty seats in the orientation hall, which held one thousand. Your class was one of the largest the academy had ever had, originally consisting of one thousand fifty three students. During the first ever orientation you had, many of the students were seated on the floor in front of the rows of seats. You, thankfully, were not one of them, but Armitage was. There was no missing the resemblance between him and his father: both shared bright reddish hair, the same icy blue eyes, the same glare. But while Brendol never did much more than scowl and sneer, Armitage occasionally smiled, albeit very rarely.

You were sixteen when he first spoke to you, during your third-year flight training. After that year, many would have to decide if they were going to stay in those classes and become TIE fighter pilots, or leave to pursue higher ranks. You knew you’d be leaving, but it seemed almost foolish for Armitage to leave, considering his flight scores ranked much higher than anyone else in the class. But the day he spoke to you, he had done something he’d never done before in all his time in the class: he purposely crashed his ship in the simulation, after allowing himself to be shot down by enemy fighters. It had come to the shock of everyone else, especially your instructor, who had a few choice words to say to him when he was called to the front of the class and ordered to explain his actions.

Afterwards, he’d spoken to you for the very first time, asking if you thought the simulation was boring, and too easy. You’d been afraid to answer at first, wondering if it was some sort of trick into making the simulation even harder for you or the next class. But you’d been honest, admitting that you were coming in last on the ranking board every time, with the exception of a few times when the simulation took you through the woods or a jungle planet, and not in the middle of a dogfight like it usually did. He’d given you one of his rare smiles then, and promised that if you ever wanted to learn, he’d help you with the simulation.

You admitted that you weren’t interested in becoming a pilot of any kind, which surprised him. You explained yourself further, saying that you’d rather work aboard a larger ship than fly a TIE fighter, not knowing if you’d ever return every time you left the hangar bay. He’d made a snarky comment that being aboard a ship the size of a small city was no safer than a TIE fighter, contrary to popular belief. After that day, your tentative friendship had unofficially began. You ate together during your short mealtimes, you helped each other with problem subjects, and during your rare moments of downtime, you shared little details from your life before the academy.

Armitage was more secretive than you were, but he was more honest as well. He believed in the idea that the academy was no place for making friends, but he’d given you the smirk you’d gotten used to from him, not nearly a smile, but not a glare, either. He told you about his biological mother, whom he’d never met, and his father, who had been enraged when he found out that he’d failed one of his placement tests, landing him two classes behind where he was supposed to be. You’d asked what the test had been, and he waved you off, saying it didn’t matter because he’d failed it on purpose, much like he’d done with your last flight simulation.

You didn’t understand the reason why until he’d explained that he had few ways of rebelling against his father’s unrealistic expectations for him, and whenever even the smallest opportunity presented itself, he took it, because for him, it was showing his father that they were not the same person. He spoke of his dreams of leading the Order one day, becoming more than a general or even a major general. Often, these talks took place outside, in the garden used by the science majors for their plants, past curfew hours.

Armitage always seemed to have something that was banned from the academy hidden in his room or on his person, from cigarettes to illegal credits to account numbers of high-ranking officials. In his room, he kept copies of old term papers, the codes to the system that kept grades, answer keys to the final exams. He revealed his secrets to no one, except for you. He’d taken many of the exams even before the academy, multiple times, which explained why he was always the first done with tests in your classes. He occasionally sold cigarettes at obscene prices to the other students, the ones willing to take the risk of being caught with illegal substances, punishable by expulsion.

Sexual activity wasn’t banned on campus, but there was often little time for it, as most students used their rare down time for studying. But Armitage was one of the few people who cavorted around the academy and even extended his activities to the heart of the city, often beginning at the end of the Galactic Standard week and ending just before the new week began. He never shared the details of his exploits with you, but you weren’t stupid, and you knew more than well what he got up to on the weekends.

You weren’t quite sure when you began to feel jealous, but you did know that you began to clam up whenever he talked about his weekends at some point. The topic began to put you on edge in a way it never did, and you often let him listen to the sound of his own voice while you focused on your studies. It left an ugly, sinking feeling in your chest, but you never had the heart to tell him to shut up. At some point, you began to turn him down for your nightly walks in the garden, choosing instead to use the hour and a half to prepare for finals you had coming up or running additional simulations to improve your practice flight scores. You were slowly rising from the bottom of the list, just enough for a decent passing grade.

You avoided him at mealtimes, too, choosing the rare option of eating in the student lounge area or the archive database, while you lost yourself in the history of the Galactic Empire. You thought for sure he wouldn’t care about your absence, and find someone new to brag to about his exploits, which is why it surprised you when he came to your dorm one night with a peace offering of Corellian truffles and a bottle of scotch, and an invitation to the rooftop observatory. Every thought in your mind was telling you no, but your heart won out in the end and you sneaked up to the roof with him at one hundred hours, and let the scotch chase your thoughts out of your mind, washing the stress from exam season from your mind, leaving only the bitter jealousy in your heart left, and the lump in your throat that made it difficult to swallow the truffles.

That night was the first time you ever saw Armitage truly worried, and though you tried not to let the way the moon reflected in his eyes break the shaky wall around your heart, in the end, you let him drape his uniform jacket over your shoulders as the two of you watched the stars, the warmth of the scotch and the heat from his body bringing out something much stronger than the bitterness in your heart to come forward. It was something you couldn’t quite pin down yet, but he’d told you not to worry about it, to let it come to you naturally. As the sun began to appear in the sky, he sent you back to your room with the few remaining truffles and his coat. And while you were still left with a bit of an empty feeling in your heart, you had curled up in bed with his coat clutched to your chest, breathing in the smell of his shampoo and whatever expensive cologne he used.

A few weeks later, he asked you to the three-year gala, the official halfway point celebration held for anyone in their third year of the academy. You were a little surprised by the proposal, but you weren’t ungrateful. The academy descended into a slightly more relaxed atmosphere, the talk changing from finals to dress shopping. Your dress uniforms would be appropriate, as they always were for any formal Order events, but you knew that all the girls in your graduating year were going to peruse the formal shops on Coruscant, where the gala would be held. Your class would spend two weeks on the ecumenopolis, touring the planet and having your first real vacation in three years. Sure, you got every third month off, but it wasn’t the same, since you weren’t allowed to leave Arkanis. Many students took filler classes for more credits, or to make up where they were lacking. You happened to be one of those students.

Luck found you in a small, exquisite boutique just off the main strip of the Coruscanti shops, where you found a sea-green dress, made of silk and chiffon, that felt weightless in your hands and felt exactly like the cool waters of Naboo against your skin. It was classically cut—one shouldered, with a flowing skirt and a train a foot and a half long, and the fabric shimmered with tiny gemstones embroidered on and in the fabric. It was only after you bought it that you realized it matched Armitage’s eyes, when he stared off into the sky too long. His eyes were blue, but there was green there, too, that went unnoticed by even you sometimes.

The night of the gala, you adorned yourself in your new dress, your silver high heels, and the silver circlet of delicate roses and blue diamond rosebuds. Most of the girls in your class opted for flashy, sparkly dresses, dripping in jewels and adorned with capes. You were almost plain in comparison, but it was the last thing on your mind as you boarded your shuttle to take you to the gala, which was being held in the old Jedi temple, from before the days of the Empire.

Most of the boys wore their dress uniforms, but Armitage was one of the only ones wearing something else. His was a deep charcoal grey suit, complete with a waistcoat and a shining new pair of dress shoes. His First Order insignia pin adorned his lapel in lieu of a boutonniere, and matched the striking blood red of his tie. Upon seeing you, the corner of his lips curved into that familiar almost-smile you knew too well, as he offered you his hand. In his other hand was a glass of champagne, which he offered to you first before taking a sip himself when you refused. The music was the classical waltz themes you recognized from one of your single elective class, which taught proper behavior and etiquette for socializing and mingling at formal balls and functions as a member of the Order. Armitage did not take that class with you, though he did help you learn the traditional dances needed to pass the class.

He told you you looked beautiful, and proceeded to make fun of his dorm mate’s paisley cape, informing you that it was three seasons out of date but he didn’t have the heart to tell him that. You tried not to laugh too much, but Armitage kept likening his dorm mate to a snobby senator, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, even if you kept telling him to stop.

The party stretched early into the morning hours, though many of your class strayed into the city, presumably to continue partying at less confined and strict environments. Armitage led you to the fountains in one of the many city squares, where he showed you how to program them to make the lights change color and the fountains to turn on and off in time to music. And then he’d taken you by the hand and pulled you into the fountains, dancing with you and ignoring the shouts from the city police.

“You’re insufferable,” you said.

“And you’d still follow me to hell and back, wouldn’t you?” he replied, eyes bright and hair dripping wet. He lifted you into his arms, spinning you around a few times before letting you down again.

“Yeah, I would.”

After that night, things began to change in the academy. Your class halved within the next year, and by the time your final year arrived, there were only two hundred students remaining out of the original one thousand fifty three. Soon, people began getting real assignments, stations for their internships, and the final cuts were made for those still not reaching the grades necessary to pass. You used to share a dorm with three other girls, but now, you were the only one who remained. It was nice, having a room to yourself again after almost six years, but you found yourself missing the hustle and bustle of your roommates, even if you were only casual friends with them.

The final exams approached with a vengeance, and no one, with the exception of Armitage, was seen out of their dorms in the months leading up to the testing week. You spent much of your down time studying, or returning things to the archives. Armitage lounged in your room like a lazy cat, against rules, but you knew that rules were like bee stings to him. While much of his time in your room was spent sitting in the open window ledge, smoking, he did help you quite a bit.

It’s a week before your final exams start when he tells you a bit of news that’s enough to throw your mind off track.

“I’ve been assigned,” he says, tapping his lit cigarette against the window frame. “The new ship, the Finalizer.”

Your eyes widen. The Finalizer is the ship that everyone hopes to be assigned to, mainly because once the construction is done, it will be the newest ship in the Order. Armitage is a shoo-in for general, from what he’s told you. He’ll be stepping on a lot of toes, but he’s said before that toes can be cut off, and there will still be the rest of the man left over to fill their given position.

“Wow,” you say, laying your book in your lap. “That’s...impressive.”

“I heard you were in talks for the Eclipse,” he says. “I’ve heard of it. It’s a good station, befitting of ambitious officers. Like you.”

The words should make you feel better, but they provoke a sinking in your chest you haven’t felt since you first became jealous of Armitage’s weekend conquests. “But it’s not the Finalizer.”

He frowns. “No, it’s not.”

You pick your book back up, flipping a page and skimming the next section. “Is that all you’ve got to say?” You turn your face away from him, hoping he won’t notice how uneven your voice is becoming.

“What am I supposed to say? That I’ll have you transferred to the Finalizer?” he asks, sounding almost angry, but more confused than anything. “You know that that’s against the rules.”

“You’ve never been opposed to rule-breaking in the past,” you retort sharply. “You won’t even miss me, will you?”

For the first time, Armitage closes his mouth and is silent for a long few minutes. He appears deep in thought as he raises his cigarette to his lips again. His eyes are closed, his free hand coming up to loosen the collar of his stiff uniform shirt.

“Of course I’ll miss you. You realize you were the only good thing that ever happened to me in all my time at the Academy, don’t you?” He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, boring into you with an intensity that’s almost too hard to look at, like you’re staring directly into the sun.

“You’re not acting like it, Armitage,” you reply. “Was any of this real for you? Anything?” You slam your book shut and toss it at the foot of your bed, kicking the blankets with it.

“You were.” His voice is quiet, with a gentleness you’ve never heard, but the past tense burns your heart in an unpleasant way.

“There you go, with the past tense again,” you snap. You tear your eyes away from him, rubbing at them harshly with your stiff sleeves.

“Because it has to be past tense now!” he yells. “Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t! Explain it to me, then!” you yell back, standing up from your bed at the same time he stands from the window.

“It has to be because we need to let each other go, move on with our lives!” He grabs your shoulders, shaking you a bit. “The Order is more than you, than me, than my father! You’re getting what you always wanted, aren’t you happy?”

“I’m not getting you!” You shove him backwards, into your desk, as you whirl around, covering your face with your hands as you feel hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

You feel warm hands on your shoulders, and you shrug them off, rubbing your eyes raw with your itchy sleeves. You can feel him behind you, but you can’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you crying yet.

“You’re more than the Order to me,” you choke out. “You’re the stars and the moons and every living, breathing thing in this whole galaxy to me. I don’t want to lose you because I don’t know how to live in this galaxy without you.”

“Even if you’d know where I was?” he asks.

“Don’t you see? That makes it worse, because even if I do know where you are, I can’t come and see you like you’re doing with me right now. Officers rarely transfer from the ship they intern on, because they become indispensable. I can’t just up and leave. Knowing where you’d be all the time...it would remind me that we’d always miss each other, no matter what we did.”

“Come here,” Armitage says, putting his hand on your shoulder and turning you, pulling you towards him. “Come here, look at me.”

You let him turn you, and he tilts your chin up with his fingers, makes you look at him. His pale lashes are damp, his eyes brimming with tears like your own.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, but you know there’s nothing I can do. Some things can’t be changed, even if I make it look like they can be.”

He cups the side of your face in his strong hand, rubbing your jaw with his thumb. In the setting sun, the sharp lines of his face appear softer, almost boyish. He’s twenty-one now, and in the past year, his cheekbones have become more prominent, his face slimmer, his gaze even sharper than before. But now, he appears softer, gentler, in a way you’ve never seen before.

He leans in to kiss you, and his lips are soft and just as plush as they look as he pulls you close, closing what little distance there is between you. His kisses find themselves on your cheeks, your eyes, your nose, your forehead. Your heart feels like a cold fist in your chest, but you kiss him because it’s the only thing strong enough to distract you, even if it’s only for seconds at a time. He walks you backwards to your bed, his hands gripping the collar of your uniform shirt.

“Armitage, please…” you murmur, covering his hands with your own. “Even...even if it’s just this one time.”

“Of course, Sweetling,” he whispers, kissing you again. “Anything I can do to make it stop.”

He unzips your shirt, pushing it off your shoulders onto the floor. His fingers on your bare skin sends tingles down your spine, and he bends to kiss your neck as he lets you guide his hands to your uniform pants. He guides them off you gently, kicking them aside and lifting you onto your bed as he begins to unfasten his own shirt. You watch him in awe, but you look away when you begin wondering if this is the only time you’ll ever be together like this. You feel the bed dip underneath his weight, and his fingers under your chin once more.

“Look at me, please, Sweetling,” he says, placing a gentle kiss to your cheekbone. “Please.”

You open your eyes to meet his gaze, and he smiles at you, a real one, and pulls you close to him. His skin is warm against yours, but the tears escaping your eyes are much hotter. You reach up to wipe them away, but he gets there first, brushing your tears away and letting his fingers rest against your cheek.

“When do you leave?” you ask, wanting the answer before you go any further.

Armitage pauses, pressing his lips together in a frown. After a long moment, he gives you your answer.

“Tomorrow.”

You turn away, but he catches you before you can pull out of his arms completely.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper.

“You never asked.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, pull him closer, thinking that if you hold onto him long enough, tomorrow will never come, and he’ll stay. He kisses you again, running his fingers through your hair and making soft, comforting sounds as he touches you.

“Do you still want to do this?” he asks after a long time.

“Yes,” you say. “I just...I wish…I wish we could’ve found each other sooner.”

“We found each other at the right time,” he says. “I don’t regret one moment of our time together. We’ll find each other again, even if it’s not in this life.”

You press your hands against his chest, pushing him back onto your bed so you can straddle his hips. You pause for a moment, admiring him spread out on your sheets like this, thinking for a fleeting moment what it would be like if there were no Order, no war, no academy. If it were you the two of you, married and living somewhere away from prying eyes, on a distant planet somewhere. You wonder if it could have ever been possible, but with every scenario you try to think of, the idea becomes more and more unrealistic.

You curl your fingers in his waistband, pulling his underwear past his hips and sliding them over his thighs, letting him kick them the rest of the way off, onto the floor. His hands slide up your chest, finding the clasp of your bra and helping you pull it off your shoulders. His hands go for your panties next, but you stop him, pulling the gusset aside instead. His cock curves towards his stomach, and he reaches for your hand, encouraging you to stroke him a few times. He’s hot and heavy in your touch, and you feel a bit of apprehension as you remember he’s your first.

“Am I the first?” he asks, and you can only nod. He hands slide up your back, pulling you down to him so he can kiss you, ease some of your fears away, forcing you to let go of him.

“I love you,” you say, as he lays gentle kisses to your neck. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else.”

His eyes close then, and when he looks at you again, they’re bright with tears.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, and his fingertips trace down your stomach, to the front of your panties, where they slip past the lace and down to your cunt, tracing your clit before sliding into you easily. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers inside you, but he begins rubbing your clit firmly with his thumb, and you’re moaning, making desperate little noises as he pushes you to the edge.

“Cum for me,” he urges you, his voice soft. “Cum for me, let me feel you.”

You orgasm with a choked moan, clenching tightly around his fingers, soaking his palm with your release as he rubs your clit with more pressure, urging you to ride it out, and then letting you down. With one shaking hand, you reach for his cock again, guide him to your cunt, and hold your panties aside as you ease the head in, slowly. He moans, dangerously loud, and your thighs are trembling as you force yourself to breathe.

The stretch of him inside you is exquisite, and as you slowly take more of him, you find it difficult to focus on anything else. Your hands come to rest on his thighs again as you ease yourself down, and Armitage places a hand on the small of your back, steadying you as you sink down three inches all at once and choke out a sob. Your nails dig into his thighs hard enough to bruise as you slide down two more inches, until you’re sitting flush with his hips.

You’re surprised when he sits up, settling you in his lap as he begins to thrust into you, grinding against you and putting pressure on your sensitive clit. You drape your arms over his shoulders, leaning forward to kiss him as he fucks you, and you whine when you feel the nip of teeth at your bottom lip.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice low and nearly a growl as he nips your bottom lip again. “By the gods, I’ve never loved anything more.”

He grips your hips tightly, guiding you to follow his rhythm, and soon, you feel your orgasm threatening to break you as he thrusts into you at a mind-numbing pace. He presses his forehead to yours, as you wind your fingers in his hair, pulling as he grinds against you.

“Look at me, Sweetling,” he whispers. “Look at me when you cum.”

You force yourself to hold his gaze as he slides his hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit hard and fast, forcing your orgasm out of you in a wave of heat that begins in your toes and makes your mind go blank for several seconds, and building you relentlessly to another as he chases his own. He growls as you continue to clench around him, and he thrusts up into you one last time, holds you close to him as he thrusts as deep as he can go, as he comes with a low growl in your ear.

You stay like that for a long time, until he lifts you off his lap and tucks you into bed, your hazy, post-orgasmic mind only registering the warmth of the blankets around you and his body behind you, his arms circling your waist. You muster enough strength to roll over to face him, and he pulls you even closer, kissing the top of your head, letting you cry when reality finally sets back in.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers from above you. “I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

You want to tell him that he’s done nothing of the sort, but the words never come.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thirteen years later, you find yourself in command of a Destroyer of your own, the newly-rebuilt Subjugator, smaller than the Finalizer, but just as capable in air combat. As the years passed after your internship aboard the Eclipse, you found yourself gaining promotion after promotion, but when you asked why, or who was recommending you, your then-superiors couldn’t answer. Now, a general in your own right, you find yourself thinking of your academy days, of the six years you spent learning the intricacies of the First Order, of its morals, its goals, and its students. You remembered being the only student from your backwater planet making it to the academy’s halfway point, and graduating as one of the top of your class, which only consisted of one hundred fifty students on the night of graduation.

You remembered Armitage Hux, and all he taught you throughout your years together, the gala, the last night you two ever had in your dorm. You remember the morning he left, and the way you’d searched for him in the crowd the night you graduated, even though you knew he wouldn’t be there.

“General,” one of your lieutenants says, datapad in hand. “We’re approaching the Finalizer. Do you wish to stop and send a boarding party?”

You close your eyes.

“And you’d still follow me to hell and back, wouldn’t you?”

“General?” your lieutenant asks, her voice concerned now.

“No. We’ll continue to headquarters, as scheduled.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! this is my first solo Hux/reader work and I cannot tell you how much I wanted to change his name here, because I despise his canon name (sorry). but for all of you, I kept it, because I love you. please leave a comment or a kudo or both, it helps me stay motivated! and come say hello to me on [my Tumblr](http://www.loganclyde.tumblr.com)!
> 
> (and before y'all come for me, Hux is 21 and you're 19 at the end before the epilogue bit)


End file.
